


Val Royeaux in the Fall

by RunawayDragons



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragon Age, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, Autumn Fluff, Dragon Age AU, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: It's autumn in Orlais, Persephone Trevelyan and Dorian Pavus share an apartment in modern day AU Val Royeaux. Persephone meets a stranger who is not prepared for the colder weather. Cuteness ensues...(I wanted to write something autumn related, found a cute AU prompt list and ran with with it.)
Relationships: The Iron Bull/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Trevelyan (Dragon Age), the iron bull/inquisitor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

“Remind me again why we thought it would be a good idea to move to Val Royeaux?” Persephone calls out, clearly frustrated, as she tries to unchain her bike from the railing in front of their apartment building. 

“Because our parents don’t live here, and I had a job offer too good to turn down, so I made you come with me.” Dorian replies matter of factly, as he saunters gracefully down the stairs, dressed immaculately as always, with his mustache perfectly styled. 

Persephone throws him a glance of annoyance before finally managing to free her only form of transportation from its restraint. She quickly stuffs her bag in the basket on the front, and then takes a deep breath of the brisk autumn air to steady herself. 

Dorian watches her, somewhat amused, and then inquires, “Why do you ask, dear?”

“Because I hate this city, and my job isn’t nearly as glamorous as yours, or as well paying, and… Wait, have you seen my keys?” She starts to answer, until she realizes her keys aren’t in her pocket where they’re supposed to be. 

The pair search quickly and efficiently, and eventually find them still stuck in their apartment door on the third floor. Once safely back at street level, they part ways, Dorian in a cab, and Persephone pedalling madly on her bike, autumn leaves scattering in her wake. 

She makes it to her place of employment just in time, and quickly throws herself into her morning routine. She starts the coffee maker, and sets the timers on the ovens after putting in the chilled baked goods her boss had started earlier that morning. Next is making sure there aren’t any books that need to be restocked, and then she unlocks the door and utters a small spell under her breath to illuminate the “Open” sign in one of the large picture windows at the front. 

Merrill’s Marvelous Tomes & Tea Shoppe may be small, and it may not pay well, but Persephone couldn’t really complain about it otherwise. Serving customers comforting drinks and pastries, while offering book recommendations, and selling the occasional specialty charm or potion, was quite a nice way to earn a paycheck. The owner was a complete sweetheart, as well as a genius, but also a complete ditz sometimes, so of course Persephone loved her. Merrill was always working on some new project, and it could be quite fun to assist her at times. But it wasn’t Persephone’s passion, and far too often she finds herself wanting more at the end of the day. All these usual thoughts bubble through her mind as she keeps herself busy, helping customers and tidying the shelves. So the work day goes by quickly, and it is time to close up before she knows it. 

Her ride home is slower, and once she is only a couple blocks from home, the sudden urge to walk grabs her heart, the smells of autumn mixing with the warm early evening sunshine’s golden glow on her back, making it easy for her to not hesitate to follow that impulse. The sound of leaves crunching under her feet instantly bringing a smile to her face as she continues her journey home. 

Eyes on the sky, watching crows overhead, she almost misses seeing him, but his horns pop into view and draw her attention. There, on the street corner across from her, stands the tallest man she’s ever seen; he is wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and ridiculous loose pants that seem to be made out of linen and not seasonally appropriate at all. Instantly, her skin prickles in sympathy for how cold he must be. Currently she is wearing boots, wool socks, jeans, a nice wool pea coat, a scarf, and the fingerless gloves her old friend Nesithra had knit her last winter, and she can still feel a chill. She notes the temperature only continues to plummet as the daylight continues to die. Instinct takes over, and her feet take her across the street as soon as the traffic is cleared enough for her to cross. 

“Excuse me, I think you should wear this.” She says, hand outstretched in the big stranger’s direction, her scarf in her hand, right in front of his face. 

“Um, thank you? I’m good though.” He quickly replies, not showing any obvious surprise in his deep gravelly voice. 

Persephone steps closer and eyes him shrewdly, taking in the goosebumps on his arms, as well as other obvious signs his body disagrees with his statement (his nipples being at the same level as her forehead, make them hard to miss). The last of the golden sun illuminates the wisps escaping from the braid circled around her head, making it look like she wears a crown made of fire, which, when paired with the defiant look in her eye and the stubborn tilt of her chin, adds extra weight to what she says next.

“I call nugshit. You are cold, so you should put this on, and say thank you; otherwise I will harass you, loudly, until you do.” 

He raises an eyebrow skeptically, clearly not completely convinced. Persephone glowers at him in response and utters a “try me” under her breath. 

“But don’t you need it?” He asks, clearly not quite ready to back down.

“Not really, I have too many according to my roommate. I was planning on donating this one anyways, so just take it already.” She answers, refusing to back down.

The tall stranger sighs reluctantly, before finally taking the very fluffy (and well knit) emerald green scarf, wrapping it around his neck. Persephone quells her triumphant smile quickly, and takes his moment of distraction as a chance to study him a moment. He’s clearly Kossith (the horns being a dead giveaway), and how he holds himself tells her he has had training as a fighter of some sort, his stance and body language reminding her of her twin brother Elric. With the scarf in place now, an awkward silence develops as the pair just sorta stare at each other, not sure how to end this interaction. 

Suddenly Persephone notices she is still standing incredibly close to this stranger, and the realization of what she’s just done hits her, causing her skin to flush with embarrassment as she takes a big step backwards to give the poor guy some space. She then almost trips on her bike and spends, what feels like an eternity, getting her balance back. Steady once more, she glaces upwards again and clears her throat before speaking, “Well, I hope you’re warmer now. Sorry I bothered you.” 

Feeling completely mortified that she’d harassed a complete stranger and told him what to do, like he was one of her brothers, she grips the handlebars of her bike tighter and starts to make her retreat. 

“I am, warmer, that is. Thank you? I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” Says the stranger, his tone slightly teasing. The humor adds something to his voice that makes Persephone feel a shiver run up her spine, which only deepens her blushing. 

Keeping her eyes firmly on the bell affixed to her handlebars, she takes a breath before saying, “Persephone. You’re welcome, have a nice evening!” And like a complete chicken, she throws a leg over her bike and starts pedalling away, wondering if it might be best for her to get hit by a car soon, as it surely would be less painful than dying from embarrassment. 

The new owner of the scarf watches her leave, one of his hands playing idly with the fringe on the ends of it. He’d been colder than he’d ever admit, and the scarf was now doing a very good job of helping him feel warmer. He’d just arrived in the city that morning, and had forgotten to pack a coat, and the rest of his belongings wouldn’t get delivered for a couple days, so rather than go buy something, he’d just planned on making do. But then fiery haired Persephone had happened…


	2. Chapter 2

Persephone stands in her kitchen, hands clasped around her favorite mug, and sips at the hot chocolate she’d made in an attempt to help herself feel sleepy. Movement outside her kitchen window catches her eye, and a quick glance shows the apartment across the alley that used to be empty has a new occupant who can’t seem to sleep either. Amused, she steps closer to the counter, and parts the practically sheer curtains so she can be nosy easier. Just as she starts to take another sip, a large figure she recognizes steps in front of the window, causing her to choke on her drink, which starts a huge coughing fit as she fights to breathe. Eyes wide, and brain racing, she emits a loud “ _EEP_ ” and sinks to the floor quickly, back braced against the cabinets as she struggles to get her breath back while not spilling her drink all over herself. 

**_“SPARKS?!”_** A startled voice calls out in half awake alarm from down the hall.

Persephone tries to answer but instead has another coughing fit. The sound of feet hitting the floor hard and urgent footsteps prelude Dorian showing up in the kitchen, hair in complete disarray, his hands clearly ready to cast a spell to stop whatever is attacking his best friend. He blinks at her, as his half-unconscious brain processes that she is not in fact being attacked, and will be okay, as she gestures at her drink and then her chest to convey she is in no danger. 

“Andraste’s ass, Sparks, you scared me!” He chides.

“Dorian! It’s _HIM_!” Persephone manages to gasp out between coughs that are starting to lose their intensity, as she jabs a finger upwards to point at the window.

“What? Who?” Dorian says, but then his eyes see what caused Persephone such distress. Seemingly completely unaware of what is going on in the building across from him, the big Kossith Persephone had met, is in the kitchen clearly waiting for his microwave to finish reheating something, he seems to be enjoying listening to whatever music his headphones are playing, by the look on his face and the movement of his hips, while wearing no shirt and a loose pair of pajama shorts. As if the bare midsection wasn’t enough, Dorian notices that the guy is wearing a green scarf, a green scarf that used to belong to Persephone.

“Well, now I don’t mind being woken up so much.” Dorian says, clearly enjoying the view.

Persephone takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, but even then she can still see her new neighbor dancing in his kitchen while wearing the scarf. A lot of emotions swirl through her body, leaving her with far too much to think about.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though she expects to run into him now that he’s her neighbor, Persephone still hasn’t by the time it’s been a week since their first encounter. She does, however, see him in his kitchen late at night more than once, and on the third sighting he notices her. She’d frozen like a halla in the headlights, for what felt like an age, but then had managed a small smile and a wave before fleeing her kitchen, almost spilling her tea in her haste to escape. 

By the fifth time she sees him through the window, she’s a little more prepared, and by the seventh time they both settle into a routine of waving and making a toasting gesture as they each enjoy their late night beverages. 

It isn’t a conscious decision, but Persephone starts working from the island in the kitchen at night, instead of the couch in their living area; the curtains over the sink are always kept open now. Dorian adapts to this, and happily waves or winks at their new neighbor when he’s home.   
The neighbor, who Persephone now mentally refers to as “Horns”, seems to spend more time in his kitchen as well, often working on paperwork or a puzzle at his kitchen table late in the night. Communicating with gestures, and facial expressions, Persephone and Horns sometimes share a joke or just a comfortable moment of companionship. 

Just as she gets used to this, Horns disappears for a couple nights. Unease gnaws at Persephone, and on the second night she almost gives into the urge to go knock on his door. Dorian reminds her the following morning that Horns probably is fine, and just had a change in his routine. While Persephone can acknowledge that’s a logical conclusion, she can’t help but still feel concerned. Since it’s her day off, she stays in the kitchen, baking and reading, always keeping the window across the way in sight. 

Another night goes by without any sign of life across the way, so the following morning Persephone decides to do something small. She carefully bundles up a half dozen cookies in a little box, and leaves it on top of the mailbox for the stranger’s apartment (whose number she’d deduced by looking up the old rental listing online, which had resulted in Dorian calling her “stalker” jokingly). A little drawing of a green scarf adorns the top of the box, as she still doesn’t know his name, and writing her made up nickname for him seems like a recipe for disaster. 

When she gets home from work, the box is gone, but there is still no sign of life through her window. Feeling more than a little defeated, Persephone puts on her comfiest pajamas, and for the first night in over a month, she stays in her room all night, falling asleep rewatching old episodes of The Real Nobles of Starkhaven while wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else thinks reality TV would be a big thing in modern day Orlais?


	4. Chapter 4

The next evening, Dorian stands in the doorway of her bedroom, dressed in a stunning dark wool capelet, perfectly pleated jeans, and the dalish knit sweater the color of a rainy autumn sky that Nesithra had made for his birthday last year, his look is completed by his freshly waxed mustache, and boots that reek of fashion while still being rugged enough to hold together should the need for hiking arise. Persephone is wearing her robe, and slippers that look like sleepy nugs (a birthday present from Merrill), paired with a look of stubborn refusal that makes her lips look pinched. 

“Come on, you promised you’d go with me. I have to go, and while I am fully capable of doing this myself, it would be so much more fun if you were with me!” Dorian cajoles. 

“Dorian, I am tired, Merrill got caught up with one of her projects again so I ended up having to work both shifts for the last few days. I just want to be comfy and warm, and I doubt that is how I will feel at some fancy party outdoors with a bunch of Orlesian nobles.” Persephone answers, still firm in her wish to stay home. 

“But who will eat fancy horderves with me, and help make fun of those Orlesians when I need a break from the political intrigue? Plus, I may have taken advantage of my expense account and bought you something since I thought you might need some extra persuasion.” 

Dorian gestures towards her closet door, and Persephone can’t help but give in to curiosity. She finds a large box on her shelf, and takes it down instantly. Once she has it on her bed she opens it and cannot help but gasp, “Dorian Pavus! You did not!” as she lets her fingers carefully grasp what is inside. Gently she pulls a pair of boots from the box, they’re a beautiful rich brown with intricate stitching and a practical one inch heel. Persephone hugs them to her and takes a deep sniff, relishing the smell of fine leather. 

“If you want to say thank you, you could get dressed and take those out for a spin at the party…” Dorian suggests with a twinkle in his eye. 

Persephone gives him a look of annoyance and then sticks her tongue out at him, never letting go of the boots. She’d seen them in a boutique window months ago and had fallen in love, but the price had made her pale. She’d cut her parents off from her life, which meant surviving off only what money she could make on her own, and that meant there was no room in her budget for thigh high snowfleur leather boots that made her want to drool. But Dorian had remembered, clearly, and once again gone out of his way to be the kind of person who noticed what she actually liked. 

Dorian helps her pick out an outfit that won’t embarrass him, and that she will still feel like herself in. They settle for dark wash jeans under the new boots, a dales loden wool shirt, and a black wool shawl (to match Dorian’s capelet), that is pinned with a brooch in the shape of a silverite dragon chasing it’s tail. A quick rebraid of her red hair to keep it tamed, and a little smokey eye makeup makes her ready to go. Once they’re all set, Dorian hooks his arm in hers, and the pair head out towards the street together, where a car awaits to take them to the outskirts of the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (My headcanon is that Dalish sweaters are like those made in Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. I also just love the idea of my Dalish Inquisitor, Nesithra, knitting by the fire at night to sooth herself after a day of dealing with shem bullsh*t.)


	5. Chapter 5

As planned, they arrive at the party fashionably late, and quickly begin to make the rounds, Persephone on Dorian’s arm, exuding the cool confidence she’d honed growing up in the Trevelyan family as her socialite-mother’s only daughter. Luckily she doesn’t have to say much, and the air is warmed by the countless small bonfires burning in strategic places along the grounds of the estate. Some party-planner had clearly gone out of their way to embrace a rustic fall theme that Persephone was sure had included “country charm” as part of it’s selling point.   
After stopping to grab some food and enjoying a drink, the pair return to their tour of the party elite. Persephone watches Dorian wheedle and charm noble after noble, further worming his way into the highest circles of Orlesian politics. She knows how much he hates it, but Dorian has been on a mission to get enough clout so that once he has enough support they’ll go to Tevinter and start making some real change. At least that is the plan, and so far the last 8 months in Orlais have gone well for him. 

“Only a few more people, Sparks, and then we’re free.” Dorian whispers to Persephone as they head towards the next group of nobles.

Persephone only pays minimal attention as she is once again introduced to a group of people she could care less about: Lady So and So, General Mustache, and finally Cyril de Montfort (who Persephone notices because Dorian had mentioned how important it would be to sway the newest member of the council of Heralds to his side). The young noble gives Persephone a flirty smile, his perfectly styled dark hair annoying her for no particular reason as he addresses her, “My dear Lady Trevelyan, it is so lovely to meet such a beautiful example of why the city of Ostwick is a shining jewel in the Free Marches.” 

Persephone offers a cool smile as she replies, “It’s Enchanter Trevelyan, Duke de Montfort, but thank you. I hope you’re enjoying your trip to Val Royeaux.” 

Small talk ensues now that the introductions are done, the young duke clearly doing his best to hide his distaste at being corrected. Persephone never tires of reminding nobles of her rank in the Circle, she’d worked hard to earn it at a much younger age than most, and it also helped to further distance her from her parents and the life they’d tried to make her live. Every time she gets called by her title she likes to think her father feels a stab of irritation, and that brings her cheer. 

A small movement catches Persephone’s attention as Dorian starts charming the young Duke. Further investigation makes her realize there is a very tall figure standing directly behind a large topiary made to look like some sort of half bird half mystery animal, Persephone can’t tell the artist's intention, only that the thing is large and has a beak. And then she sees them, horn tips, poking into sight above the shrubbery. Her breath catches as the idea ignites that the horns could belong to her mystery neighbor. Against her instinct to watch and wait, she makes her excuses and slips away, heading towards the bathroom, but as soon as eyes are off of her, she loops back so she can approach from an angle that will hide her from the Duke and his companions.

Standing tall in an all black suit, on the backside of the massive sorta-bird topiary, is her Kossith neighbor. Persephone takes in the fact that he is scanning the crowd, his stance and body language more intimidating than her previous encounters. As his head turns, she catches sight of an earpiece, which triggers the realization Horns must be part of the security for the party. Her feet stop abruptly, as her brain registers that he might not want her to approach him while he’s working. Indecision grips her, which is not a feeling she is used to having. 

Just as she decides to make a retreat, he sees her. His eyebrows raise slightly, and a smile turns his formerly foreboding demeanor to one that oozes charm and pleased surprise. Persephone bites her lip and offers the tiniest of waves, clearly feeling a bit self-conscious at being caught staring. He wiggles a finger, in a “come over” motion, which causes Persephone to blush ever so slightly. She answers by mouthing “are you sure?” and pointing to herself, which gets her a firm nod and a roguish wink from his only visible eye. Persephone takes a deep breath and pulls herself back together, which helps her make it over to her new friend without looking too awkward. 

“Well, hello neighbor.” He says, his eye bright. 

“Hello to you too.” She answers, and immediately feels like an idiot. 

Luckily a waiter stops by with a tray of miniature pies, and Persephone happily grabs one and pops it in her mouth to buy herself time. This only seems to entertain him more, his smile never leaving his face as he waits for her to finish eating. Inwardly she curses him for being patient and casts her thoughts for what to say next. 

“So, I think it’s only fair that you tell me your name, since you already know mine.” She says after swallowing the last mouthful. 

“If we’re talking fair, I should point out you never gave me a chance to properly introduce myself in the first place.” He replies.

“Yes, well, that doesn’t change the fact that I still don’t know your name.” She counters, determined. 

He regards her for a moment, clearly taking in her whole outfit, his eye not covered by an eyepatch lingering on her legs and her new boots a couple seconds longer than necessary. Slowly his gaze travels back up to her face, and Persephone quells the urge to blush again as he starts to speak.

“I’m The Iron Bull, it’s lovely to finally introduce myself to you, Enchanter Persephone Trevelyan.”

Dead, she is dead. All she can manage to do for a breath is blink in stunned silence, as it dawns on her he’d heard her earlier. Her whole body feels numb, except for her face, which feels like someone just cast a fireball at it. 

“Ha-ha! I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It was the first time someone had stood up to the little _~AHEM_ , I mean, my employer, all evening.” The Iron Bull says, full of good natured mirth. 

Persephone can’t help but giggle, as his amusement makes her smile. 

“I suppose I will forgive you, The Iron Bull.” She says, regaining her composure. 

“Please, you can just call me Bull, you’ve seen me dancing while half naked in my kitchen after all, so there is no need for formality.” 

“Andraste’s ass, I was hoping you hadn’t noticed! I’m sorry!” She gasps out before covering her face with her left hand in further embarrassment. 

“No need to apologize, it’s my fault for not putting in curtains.” He offers, clearly trying to help her feel better. 

Persephone recovers and gathers the nerve to ask him about his disappearance, which he happily answers. The Iron Bull explains he runs a private security company, The Bull’s Chargers, and his business had been hired to work for the party, and to guard the young Duke while he was in the city, which meant the Iron Bull had been staying at the hotel with his temporary employer. Persephone feels a bit of relief now that she knows that her new neighbor had not in fact been mugged and left in a ditch somewhere. 

“Well, I hope you at least enjoyed the cookies I left you.” She says hopefully. 

“Cookies?” The Iron Bull asks, clearly unsure what she is talking about.

“I left a box of cookies on your mailbox a couple days ago. They disappeared with your mail, so I had assumed you’d gotten them.” She replies. 

“I did not. But I think I know what happened to them. I had my second in command pick up my mail for me. Hold on, I’ll check.” He says, before putting a finger to his earpiece and speaking again, this time in a deeper voice he clearly reserves for his work. 

“Hey, Krem, did you forget to give me **all** my mail, yesterday?” 

Persephone leans forward a little, but whatever response the Iron Bull can hear, sounds only like a light buzzing to her ears. 

“Uh huh, I’m just asking as apparently my neighbor left me something, and she’s here asking if I got it, but I didn’t see it in what you brought to me.” Iron Bull says, still in his serious boss voice.

Persephone can hear the buzz again, and waits expectantly for the Iron Bull to reply.

“Poison risk? You threw them out? Yeah, sure, Krem. Like I believe that. Guess what, your break is over _now_ , so you get to come and relieve me, and apologise to my neighbor while you’re at it.” 

Once he’s done speaking, he takes his finger off the earpiece and lets out a chuckle that Persephone can’t help but join in with. They make small talk while they wait for Krem to make his way over from the other end of the estate. Persephone finds that talking with the Iron Bull is unexpectedly easy, as he’s knowledgeable on a wide range of subjects, with a sense of humor that keeps her smiling. It’s refreshing to talk with someone new who can keep up with how easily her brain hops from one subject to another. 

Krem isn’t what Persephone had been expecting, as he's human and not another kossith, but she instantly likes him nonetheless, and takes his apology for eating her cookies gracefully. She watches as boss and second in command bicker good naturedly, finding it reminds her of the good times she once had with her brothers when they were all younger. It’s clear the Iron Bull and Krem are more than just coworkers, they’re found-family, and that is a bond Persephone understands very well. Dorian is her closest family, despite the fact they’re technically only distant cousins (a fact they only found out after already becoming good friends), he was more like her sibling than any of her blood brothers had ever been. 

“Well then, Krem, you’re in charge for the rest of the night. I’ll check in with you in the morning.” The Iron Bull says as he lets Krem take his place. 

Persephone smiles a goodbye at Krem, and starts to wave, but the big kossith hooks his arm through hers and pulls her away. She doesn’t have much time to react, as for every stride he takes, she has to take two, despite being fairly tall, her height is nothing compared to the man who is skillfully avoiding groups of people while heading towards the outskirts of the party with her in tow. 

“Where are you taking me?” She manages to get out in a forced whisper, trying not to call too much attention to herself. 

“All that talk of cookies made me hungry, and I know just where to go.” He replies, never breaking his stride.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend listening to this version of Enchanters while reading this part:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1IC4ymq8Uk  
> ;)

Persephone sits perfectly balanced on a barrel in a half forgotten courtyard behind the kitchen for the estate. In her hands is the most delicious sandwich she’s ever eaten, and it occurs to her not only does she not know what is in it, but she also doesn’t care. The Iron Bull leans against a tower of crates that come up to his midsection, enjoying a bowl of chocolate trifle the chef had saved for him special. The pair share the same kind of quiet companionship they’d gotten used to having through their kitchen windows, familiar and comforting. 

_Bzzz...Bzzz...Bzzz._

Persephone feels her phone going off where she’d tucked it into the top of her boot. After finishing the last bite of her food, she pulls her phone out and checks it.

**_“Sparks, where did you disappear too? Everything OK?”_ **

Persephone feels a twinge of guilt for abandoning Dorian, but it fades quickly, and is replaced by renewed appreciation that she has someone who cares enough to check in on her.

_“Found the *scarf emoji* neighbor. Eating a sandwich and hiding from Nobles.”_

_**“Jealous. Do let me know if you won’t be needing a ride home later. I expect details at length on the morrow.”** _

_“*eye roll emoji*”_

She locks her phone and slides it back into her boot, then casts her eyes to the stars, her lips curved into a small smile once more. The chill night air stirs as an autumn breeze finds its way into the courtyard, tickling the back of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine that makes her wrap her shawl around herself a little tighter. 

Sounds of music playing not too far away reach her ears, perhaps a remigold? She can’t quite tell, as the orlesians always have to put their own spin on things, which in this case means a lot more flutes than usual. A looming presence interrupts her thoughts and draws her attention, she takes her eyes off the sky and only has to move her head slightly to find the Iron Bull standing in front of her with a beckoning look in his eye that stirs the feeling of butterflies behind her belly button.

“Care to dance?” He asks in a deep rumble that makes the butterflies do backflips. 

“Of course, my dear sir.” She answers back, using her best noble lady voice, taking his hand as she stands up from her seat.

Just as they start to dance, the music changes and the sweet sound of the bard, Maryden, singing one of Persephone’s favorite songs curls around them. The Iron Bull leads her with a deftness and grace that makes her feel like her feet are floating across ground as they slowly spin and sway in gentle circles. 

Persephone can’t help but softly sing along as the bard gets to the chorus, 

_“Enchanter, come to me!  
Enchanter, come to me!  
Enchanter, come to see!  
Can you, can you come to see,  
As you once were blind  
In the light now you can sing?  
In our strength we can rely,  
And history will not repeat.”_

The Iron Bull leads her into a spin and then pulls her back to him, and something in the way he is looking at her brings the butterflies back full force. When the song ends, they stop dancing, and just stand there a moment, his hand still on her back, hers resting easily on his arm, the fingers of their other hands still entwined. The music starts back up, an instrumental piece this time, but their feet don’t move. Persephone feels the heat building in the air between them, any chill she’d had before now long gone. Her eyes meet his and she wonders if he can hear her heart as loudly as she can. 

“Would you mind if I tried something, The Iron Bull?” She asks softly, never breaking eye contact.

“If it’s what I think, I don’t mind at all. And please, like I said before, Bull is fine, no need for the whole thing.” He answers in a low voice that makes the fire in her middle intensify.

Persephone stretches upwards, moving her hands so they can wrap around his neck. Just before she has to go on her tiptoes he bends down to meet her half way, and their lips meet in a glorious crush of liquid heat that sends an electric charge all the way down to her toes. The kiss feels like eternity and only a moment all at once, the power of it taking her breath away. They reluctantly part, and Persephone lets out a contented sigh that earns her a hungry look from him. 

“Wow.” is all she can say. 

“I think I can do better than, wow.” He teases.

Persephone’s eyebrows raise, and she can’t help but smirk, “Well then, _Bull_ , let’s see what you’ve got.”

The Iron Bull doesn’t hesitate, and grabs her at the waist, lifting her until their faces are level, causing her to let out a surprised squeak. He studies her face a moment, to be sure she hasn’t changed her mind, and then kisses her so thoroughly that she finds herself wrapping her arms around him tighter, desperate to be even closer to him. Her whole body feels like it’s molten, the urge to melt into him overwhelming as the kiss continues. They only part when the need for air in their lungs becomes too dire to be ignored anymore, but even then he doesn’t put her down. Persephone lets her head rest against his, his cheek pressed into the side of her forehead, as they hold each other and sway along to the music. 

There isn’t any room for words after that, the air between them filled thick with emotions both exciting and daunting (at least for Persephone). They share a couple more dances, staying close, some part of their bodies always touching. Even when her phone buzzes to let her know the car will be leaving soon, they stay close, hands entwined as he walks her towards the parking area. They share one more brief kiss before she gets into the awaiting car, Dorian inspecting his nails diligently while they say goodnight. Before she leaves she writes her number across his palm after borrowing a pen from the driver of the car. As the car pulls away, Dorian notes the dreamy smile on Persephone’s face, and can’t help but enjoy seeing her happier than he’s seen her in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks!
> 
> Unless anybody wants more of these dorks in this AU, please let me know! I have some ideas, but *shrugs*
> 
> And if you want to read more about Persephone, please check out some of my other fics featuring her. ^_^


End file.
